Devil Goin' 'Ome
by Charli-Slater
Summary: Just another short story, good twist at the end.


"Junior, git your lazy, worthless hide up here and bring in the wood for the cook stove! Ya hear me, boy!"  
"Whatta we gonna do, Buddy? Pa's drunk again," Tad said, looking towards the house. 

Ever since Ma'd left and Pa'd moved Tad and Me out of Gram's house to this ole shack, he'd gotten meaner - the more he drank the meaner he got. Now instead of buying his moonshine from old Earl, he was makin' it and stayin' drunk all the time.

Pa didn't know we had followed him when he took a load of corn up the ridge to the holler. We'd lay on our bellies atop the hill and watched while he put the corn in barrels of water. There was a big copper kittle with tubes comin' out the top and runnin' into a round tank. Glass jugs was sittin' all around, some of them full. Grams had told me about the moonshiners runnin' whiskey up to Searcy County. She said the revenuers would git 'em if they didn't kill each other off first, or die from drinkin' their own rotgut whiskey.

"What's he doin, Buddy?"

When my elbow caught Tad in the side, he let out oomph before I could slap my hand over his mouth.

"Shhh ... that's a still," I whispered motionin' him to be quiet. "Pa's a' makin whiskey. That's why Sheriff Johnson was snoopin' round last week. Makin' moonshine's against the law." 

"What are we gonna do if they take him to jail? Can we go back and live with Gram? I hope Sheriff Johnson comes back an' gits 'im. I hope he puts him in jail!" I'd wished the same thing and even pondered tellin' the sheriff about Pa's still. If he went to jail, Tad and me could go back to Grams and then maybe Ma'd come back home.

"Hold still Tad. You're squirmin' around like there's a lizard in your drawers."

Tad rolled over onto his side an' started swipin' at his chest.

"Ants!" he whispered and kept slappin'.

When I looked over where Tad had been layin' I saw the mound of pine needles.

"Didn't you look afore you flopped down? Look what you was a' layin' on!" I said, swipin' the top of the mound with the back of my hand.

There weren't no way to keep Tad quiet, so I motioned him to belly-crawl backwards 'til it was safe to stand up. Soon as we got over the ridge where Pa couldn't see us, Tad stripped down to his birthin' suit. While he was knockin' ants offen him, I was shakin' his clothes.

"Just leave em off and let's git outta here afore Pa hears us."

Tad grabbed up his clothes and we took off runnin' towards the river. When we got far enough away so we could stop runnin', I grabbed Tad by the shoulders and shook him so he'd listen.

"We can't let Pa know we saw that still. He'd be awful mad if he found out we seen it. You gotta promise you won't ever slip up and tell! It'd be hell to pay if he found out we knowed about it!"

I had to make sure Tad knew how important it was not to let Pa know we'd seen the still. Tad wasn't too good at keepin' secrets, but he seemed to understand he had to keep this one. If Pa found out we knowed about it, he'd strap us for sure.

"I won't tell! I won't ever tell, Buddy," he said making an x mark across his chest. 

Pa stayed gone all day tendin' the still, and by the time he came home at night he was sloppin' drunk. Me an' Tad took to sleepin' in the shed just to stay outta his way. Now me, I weren't too afraid of Pa like Tad was. I was nigh on fourteen and big for my age, almost as big as Pa. Tad was ten but scrawny. Pa called him Junior, but Mama used to say he weren't no bigger than a tadpole, so me and her nicknamed him Tad. His blonde hair always looked like it hadn't been combed in a month of Sundays. Ma kept it cut short cause the cowlick on top made it stand straight up. When I asked her why Tad's hair made two circles in that spot she said, "Well, Buddy, I was a milkin' one day and set Tad down beside me. Why that darned old cow musta' thought Tad was her calf cause she took a big old slurp right there on top of his head and them circles just popped up." After that, I always made sure not to get too close to the cow.

Pa weren't no big man either, and it seemed to pleasure him to pick on Tad. If he weren't pushin' him around, he was yelling and calling him a moron. Tad might've been a bit slow, but he weren't no moron. Lately it seemed like Pa was justa lookin' for a reason to take the strap to Tad. I'd catch him lookin at Tad, mean-like –- like he hated him. I tried to keep him away from Pa and outta his sight. I'd do his chores when Pa was around cause he didn't push me around like he did Tad.

"Here, you keep tarrin' them holes." I handed him the flat scraper still covered in tar. "I'll get the wood. He's been a sippin' on a jug all mornin'; he'll pass out again an' we can git this ole boat finished. Dump some of that kerosene' on my hands so's I kin rub this tar offen em." 

The tar had dried and it took longer than it should've to git it off. While I was wipin' my hands on a tow sack, Pa yelled again.

"Junior! I said get your ass up here! Don't make me come down there or I'll take some hide offen them bones! Junior! Ya hear me, boy?" 

"You'd better hurry, Buddy, afore he heads this way." The more times Tad looked towards the house, the whiter he got around the gills.

Every time Pa'd start his bellerin', Tad'd start shaking, turn real pale, and throw up. He weren't no more than four the first time Pa'd took the strap to 'im. Ma had tried to stop him, but he shoved her outside and locked the door. I'd come a' runnin' up from the river when Tad screamed. Ma was beatin' on the door but couldn't git it open. It took weeks afore the welts on Tad's legs and back healed. Now ever time Pa picks up the strap, Tad either pukes or pees his pants.

"Now don't you go a gittin' sick on me. Just keep workin', I'll be back as soon as the wood's carried in," I yelled over my shoulder and took off in a trot towards the house. 

The woodpile was next to the barn so I grabbed an armload and headed on up the hill to the house. Pa was just comin' out the door when I stepped up on the porch. If my arms hadn't been full, I'd of seen the strap and braced myself before he swung it. When the leather landed across my shoulders, I fell forward and on to one knee causing the wood to scatter out in front of me. I'm guessin' Pa was expectin' Tadpole and didn't even look before he swung the strap.

"Take that wood in the house," was all he said before stepping off the porch and headin' towards the outhouse. My right knee had scraped across the rough floor of the porch, tearin' a hole in my overalls. When I looked down, blood was drippin' on to the top of my bare foot. While I was gathering up the firewood, Tad came runnin' up to the house.

"Git back down to the boat afore he comes back," I hissed pointing towards the river.

"You all right, Buddy?"

"Yeah, it didn't hurt too much," I lied.

"But...!"

"Git!"

Drops of blood left a trail from the porch into the kitchen stoppin' in front of the wood box where I dumped the armload of wood. Pa kept the Raleigh's Salve in a tin can on top of the Hoosier cabinet. By the time I'd scooped out enough to cover the cut, blood had puddled 'round my toes. Before I could run out the back door, Pa staggered into the kitchen.

"Whar's that tit-bag brother of yours? He's bout as useless as your slut mama. Always had my doubts about that one bein' my git. Jest like her though, whinin' all the time. A man can only take so much afore he has to let'em know who's boss." 

"He ain't no tit-bag and Mama weren't no slut! She'll be back!"

"She ain't never comin' back, boy! I see'd to that," he snarled and headed out the door slapping the strap against his leg.

"Junior! Did ya hear me? I'm comin after you, and when I gits through you'll be squattin' to pee like some split-tail!"

"Pa! Let him be!" I yelled, grabbing his shoulder to stop him from going after Tad. "I brung the wood in..."

The strap caught me across the mouth and nose, splittin' my lip, and jammin' my nose sideways.

"You needs a lesson in manners, boy," he said, drawing the strap back to swing again. "Yep, you're just like your mama too. She never learned no manners either. I showed her who's boss and I'll show you too!"

I don't know what hit me first, the strap, or the boot in my gut. When my head cleared and I could take a breath without coughin', I looked around the room.

Pa was sittin' on the floor leaned back against the bunk in the corner. A whiskey jug lay on its side next to em. "Nope, she ain't never comin' back." His voiced just seemed to die away before changin' into a drunken snore.

Wrapping a rag around my knee stopped the bleeding but caused the cut to sting like the devil as I hobbled down to the boat. Tad came a runnin' to meet me but drew up sharp when he saw the bloody bandage on my knee and the dried blood on my face.

"What ... what...?"

"It ain't nuthin'. Did you git them holes patched? We gotta git it all tarred up. This here old boat is gonna' take us outta' here, an we don't want ta sink out in the middle."

"He ain't never gonna let us go back to Grams, Buddy."

Tad ducked his head and kicked the dirt with his toes before turnin' back towards the boat. I could see his eyes a wellin' up with tears, but he wouldn't look at me.

"Don't say that Tad. We'll go back. I promise."

Tad's bottom lip quivered and he sniffed real loud before he said, "Well, he ain't, Buddy! We ain't ever gonna leave here!"

For the next few days, Tad and Me stayed in the shed away from the house unless we knew Pa was snorin' drunk. We'd sneak in the house for food and he'd never wake up – but one day our luck ran out. Pa kept the canned goods on a shelf above the icebox. I'd boosted Tad up so he could stand on top of the icebox and hand down cans for me to put in a bag.

"Git that sorghum can and we'll make some hoecakes for supper," I whispered pointing to a can on the top shelf. When Tad reached up his foot slipped throwing him into the shelves. The syrup can hit the floor knockin' the lid off and money scattered everwhere. Tad's eyes got big as he stared at the coins rollin' across the floor.

"What the...! Why you dirty little thievin' brats! I'll teach you to steal from me!"

Pa charged towards us but stopped long enough to grab a stick of firewood.

I reached up and swung Tad off the icebox slinging him towards the door in the same motion.

"Run! Git to the boat!" Another shove and he was tearing out the door.

As I half-turned, the stick caught my right temple knockin' me backwards into the cabinet.

"So you want to steal do ya? Your mama thought she could take my money too! Now I'm gonna show you just like I showed her! Them old mine shafts hides lotsa things, boy!" he screamed and raised the wood to swing again.

Through my blurred eyes I could see the stick of wood aimed at my head, but managed to roll to the side; the blow glanced off my shoulder. Another roll to the left gave me enough time to get up on one knee. I reached for the stove to help pull myself the rest the way up, but instead of the stove my hand grasped the poker that was leaned up against it.

As my fingers closed around the metal, Pa grabbed the front of my shirt jerkin' me the rest the way up and slammin' my back against the wall. I didn't knowed I'd swung the poker till I felt the thud and blood spurted from the gash on the side of his head. Both his hands clawed at my chest as he sunk to the floor. All I wanted to do was git away from him, but I stumbled over the kerosene' can knockin' it over. When it hit the floor the oily liquid splashed out the spout and commenced seepin' into the wood floor. 

The lidless syrup can lie on its side amongst the scattered money. Ignoring the coins, I scooped up the bills and stuffed 'em in my pockets. Pa still hadn't moved and I couldn't see his chest going up and down. With both pockets full, I headed for the door, but there was something I had to get and one more thing I had to do. The ladder to the loft weren't too wide, and the knot on my head made me dizzy, but I managed to climb into the loft without fallin'.

Mama's picture sat on a box next to Tad's pallet. Pa never climbed into the loft so we didn't have to hide it like we did everything else that belonged to her. Stuffing the picture into the bib of my overalls, I made my way back down the ladder. The matchbox hung on the wall next to the stove -- I grabbed a handful of matches on my way to the door. When I looked around the room, Pa was still laying in the same spot. Blood from the cut on his head was mixin' with the kerosene' that pooled around his body. I never looked back after tossin' lighted matches on the kerosene' soaked floor.

By the time I stumbled down to the river, Tad had flipped the boat over and was shovin' it towards the water. I couldn't tell the sweat from the tears cause both was a runnin' down his cheeks. "I can't get it to the water, Buddy, I've pushed and pushed and it just won't go." He sniffed and swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Come on, Tad. You shove and I'll pull," I said, grabbin' the rope tied to the front of the boat.

Between the two of us we managed to drag the boat to the edge of the bank, slide it into the river and loop the tie rope around a saplin'.

"Grab those push poles and the lantern while I hold the boat," I yelled, pointin' at the poles leaned up against the Elm tree.

The current was strong; it took both hands to keep it from draggin' Me and the boat away from the bank. My shoulder, where the stick of firewood had hit it, was achin' bad and sendin' pains shootin' down my left arm.

"Hurry, Tad! I can't hold it much longer!" 

With the lantern bail looped over his arm and a pole in each hand, Tad dived into the boat and fell face first onto the floor. Between the jolt of his fall and the drag of the current, the tie rope jerked out of my hand lettin' the boat float into the water. 

By the time Tad righted himself, I had the boat headed downstream.

"Grab that other pole and help me keep 'er midstream!" I yelled, strugglin' to keep the boat headed towards the middle of the river.

While he scrambled to get the pole shoved into the river bottom, I glanced towards the bank.

The flames inside the cabin had broken through the roof sending an orange glow jiggin' across the water. It reminded me of the times me, Mama, and Tad would sit on the porch and watch the fall moon turn the river the colour of fire. Tad would crawl up on Mama's lap and hide his face against her shoulder. I was scared too until Mama said, "Nights like this are for rejoicin', Buddy. The ole devil's out there on that river tonight gatherin' up the souls what's his. Why, when the good Lord thinks this old river needs a cleanin' he just calls up the old devil himself and tells him to come on up here and take his git away from all the good folks."

"Where we goin', Buddy?" 

"We're goin' home ... we're finally goin' home. But first we gotta tell Sheriff Johnson about the fire. How Pa must've got drunk and knocked over the kerosene' too near the cook stove. I'll be sure an' tell him how I tried to get in the door, but the fire was just too hot. That's how it happened. Right, Tad?"

I glanced back at Tad to see if he'd understood. He was starin' at the burning shack; several minutes passed before he spoke. "Yep, reckon that's how it happened."


End file.
